the hardest part is letting go
by EmptySequence
Summary: In the end, a simple 'I love you' could have been enough.


_Cause we are broken  
What must we do to restore  
Our innocence?  
And all the promise we adored  
Give us life again, cause we just wanna be whole…_

_We Are Broken- Paramore._

He hated that stupid smirk she wore every time she came around, as if she knew every secret about the world. He hated that with one cocked eyebrow she could turn him on, make him want he so badly that he physically ached. But she was broken, never to be repaired. Maybe patched up, like putting on some rubbing alcohol and holding gauze on a wound. And he would do just that, try and patch her up, but she would never let him. He would probably never let himself, too.

She hated the fact that her random visits started becoming quite less random; dropping by for no reason, just to give them a few stupid leads. She knew he suspected something, but she _had _to see him. His stupid smart ass mouth that made her feel like she was on fire. And she hated him for it.

He knew she felt something. He was sure of it. Honestly, why else would she come by almost every week? He saw her sneaking glances at him, running her eyes over his body, undressing him with her eyes. And he did just the same, imagining her beneath him, saying his name, cooing meaningless words into his ear, which of course, made him excuse himself to the bathroom to rid himself of his pesky boner.

She would roll her eyes when he would excuse himself to the bathroom, obviously some raging hard-on going on. Probably from one of his whores. And, surprisingly, that made her feel a flare of something unfamiliar. Jealousy, perhaps? No, it couldn't be. She _never _in a million years would get jealous. It just wasn't possible. She wasn't made like that; she had too much pride to admit that she might feel a little spark for him. But she would never admit it. Ever.

He always wondered what was going on in her head when she got that confused look on her face. Pouty lips, knit brows, and her nose slightly wrinkled. It was adorable, and it didn't help him like her less. If anything, it made up want to rip her clothes off and take her right there. Sam standing there or not. Which sort of made him lose the mood, thinking of his innocent younger brother standing there watching them fuck like monkeys. Oh yeah, way to get rid of a boner.

She glared at him as she marched in, stomping to one of the hideous lemon yellow motel beds, sighing in frustration. He arched a brow, looking up from the TV. She huffed, looking to see what he was watching, rolling her eyes when she was scarred with the image of two naked women scissoring in some random hotel room. He grunted, returning to his porn. But he looked mildly bored.

"Porn not doing it for you anymore?" she asked, smirking. "Not getting the job done?"

"Shut your trap, blondie," he growled, glaring at his porn. She chuckled bitterly, looking at the ceiling.

"Where's your brother?" she asked him, shrugging off her jacket, and laying back.

"Out," he muttered. "Why?"

"I need to talk to him, why else?" she asked, licking her lips. He grunted again, and looked back at the TV.

He resisted the urge to look at her, to throw himself at her right there. She looked so appealing, sprawled out on the bed, her hair spread out behind her. Then she licked her lips, and he bit back a groan. When did Sam say he was gonna be back? He glanced over, seeing her with her eyes shut, rubbing her thigh, and he couldn't hold back a groan. Damn that bitch straight back to hell.

She peeked open an eye, smirking when she saw him sitting tensely, supporting a very uncomfortable looking boner. This made her horny, of course.

"You okay there, boner boy?" she smirked, and he glared.

"Why you lookin', princess?" he smirked back, but the bump in his jeans stayed, making her roll her eyes.

"Kind of hard to miss," she snorted. He grumbled something, probably one of his brilliant comebacks, and she continued to stare at the ceiling. She heard the groaning of the bed, the TV being shut off, and him shuffling around. She smirked, peeking at him, but it faded when she looked over. In that moment, he looked more vulnerable than she had ever seen him. Sitting alone, staring out the window with that defeated look on his face, rubbing his temples. Her features softened, and she sat up, saying his name softly.

He turned to look at her, her features soft, caring even. His name had slipped from her lips, and he stared at her, before he stood up, striding over to her and sitting next to her without saying a word.

"I'm scared," he stated bluntly.

"I know," she said, and he turned to face her, before his lips crashed onto hers.

She froze as his lips came down on hers with a brutal force, but she responded quickly. Her hand grabbed at his shoulders, his hands, his hair, anything she could hold onto, reminding her that it was real, not a sick dream. His hands knotted in her hair, growling as she nipped at his bottom lip. He lost all self control in that one simple bite, pushing her onto the bed roughly, her clothes gone in an instant, but she surely didn't complain.

She was in paradise, him on top of her, her underneath, just how she always wanted it. How she always wanted it, rough, no reservations. No stopping to map each other out, just short and…bitter. No gentle caresses, no soft kisses. She hated that stuff anyway, she guessed. None of that cooing or professions of love.

He was in sheer bliss, her beneath him, her tanned body covered in sweat. He was rough, perhaps a little too rough, his hands grabbing her hips hard enough to bruise. Yanking her to him, his lips capturing hers in a rough kiss, nothing gentle, just a wild animal that took and never gave. Not stopping to hear her whimper, he bit down on her lip, biting anywhere else on her, making sure every other man knew he was there.

She watched as he rolled off her, panting hard, just like her. Her chest rising and falling, she stood up to gather her clothes. She was at the door when she turned sharply, about to utter the three mere words that would complete him, make something feel like it was going right in his life. But she turned and left, slamming the door hard enough to leave a crack, hoping he didn't see the tears that filled her eyes as she strode off.

He heard her slight intake of breathe, and watched in confusion as she turned sharply, her mouth forming some words that didn't come out. He waited anxiously, hoping to hear her say it. She didn't, just took off into the night, slamming the door hard enough that he heard a crack. He could have sworn he saw the glittering tears in her eyes before that door smacked shut.

In the end, a simple _I love you_ could have been enough for Dean and Ruby.

**End.**

**R&R.**

**~Holly**


End file.
